A bitter wind—
Cold Northeaster
Out of Idaho
(Some things don’t change)
So, we turned in early—
Ground beds—
Comfortable enough—
You once more
Beside me—
Lying in frigid darkness—
Gibbous moon hung
Weakly over Salt Creek—
And in spite of proximity,
Sharing still that warmth
That came from two.

04/15/2010

Author's Note: Memory of Little Mountain

Posted on 04/15/2010
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes